So this was what we were returning to; a scared battlefield and ashes. We'd travelled across the universe to save Earth, we'd seen off the invaders and suffered the casualties, only to find it had all been a decoy. I slammed my fist in anger. While we were away they had come in mass, and now there was nothing left. They'd built their own world here, in weeks, and their own field ready for the final battle.
They had known we were coming, their only threat now. One battleflier with a crew of beat-up exhausted earthlings. We were no heroes, (how can you be a hero when there's no-one left to save?) but there was only one thing to do.
We had to fight them, in their own world - a world which lied and made a mockery of our shots, a world which had once been ours. We could seem them ahead, we fired, the the rays rebounded mid-way into empty space. Our ship's computer could help, but we were hopelessly outnumbered. I wondered if we'd make it this time, and if we did where we would go to, what we could rebuild...
The moon was the colour of wide frozen shrieks of laughter, the frost line ran down the window... I'm in shock.